apologies again for the tardiness of this update. i love writing this blog but somehow i never get round to it. there's much to say and with only THREE WEEKS left in consti i've got to get some of my comtemplative musings in here somewhere too...
i should start with soph's visit way back at the end of march. soph was an absolute hit in consti; she was nearly kidnapped at one point. you know that fashion rule of 'legs or baps: not both' - well soph boldy resists this rule: and why not, i've you've got it, flaunt it etc - except when in constantina, here you should cover up like mother superior unless you want to be hissed at/dribbled on/followed home. so off we went one night for a casual spot of tapas and a plump 40 something slithered his way across the bar and bought us cervezas before even speaking to us (this is always a bad sign, they don't even give you a chance to skedaddle). it was the same old pervy chit-chat - 'where's your boyfriend?', 'what are two pwitty girls like you doing alone in a bar in consti?', 'do you want to come to the beach with me for the weekend?'. to be far that last line was a bit forward even by goatville's standards but he dropped it in there anyway. we paid him minimal attention but he was quite persistent...and oh dear, i needed the loo, what to do?! get soph to come with me and fulfil all his wildest girl on girl fantasies (but at least she'd be safe) or leave her at the bar and just take the world's quickest ever whazz. i chose the latter but turns out i wasn't quick enough: i returned to the bar to find soph about to groped, have her earlobes licked and looking positively scared. as i took my seat again at the bar he calmed himself, we told him to dick off and that we had no interest in greasy spaniards muchas gracias...didn't stop him from buying another round and trying the licky lobe treatment with me. we waited in the bar until we were sure he'd gone, turned out he was lurking outside in his car so we asked the friendly barman if he was dodgy (he clearly was). the barman's response, 'no, he's just a LAD'.
poor soph, she made it back to england a couple of days later with violent sunstroke. it could have been A LOT worse.
then along came fizz...also famous in these parts and quite chummy with the local policia too. on fizz's first morning i thought i'd take her up to la capitana which is the highest peak in the province. it's about 50km from consti (what isn't?!) and involves a challenging drive up a mountain track which tests tinker's offroad abilities (verdict - nil). so we set off with some satsumas and a bottle of water: naturally as we're just going for a mini day trip i don't pack my pissing passport, driving licence and car registration certificate because i wasn't going to need them, was i? oooh, but of course i will because it's speeeen and the policia have zilchio better to do than stop me and demand documents. at least this time i'm not drunk, definite improvement. 'documentacion senyorita', barks the charming gendarme. i get out the trusty aa roadside assistance printout and last decade's tesco car insurance (which is my brother's incidentally)...he's not standing for this shit. 'identificacion senyorita' - uh oh, didn't even bring me purse with me. oooh i know i'll whip out my debit card, this is the debit card that only works at the bank in constantina and has'youth project ages 13 to 18' splashed all over it. unsurprisingly that didn't work either. he sent me back to consti to get mis documentos which was a good hour round trip. he asked me if i'd learnt my lesson - i replied that yes i had and was let off any fines. he even shook my hand and gave me a little spanish smile. i was touched.
fizz and i didn't stay long in consti, having dabbled in some nightlife and had lukewarm whiskey & apple sour's shots bought for us we decided we had bigger pescados to fry so we hit the costa (not del sol i might add). we had a wander, ogled over the world's most beautiful fishmonger in cadiz's fish market (all manner of witticisms i could add here but i won't) then headed to the playaaa. here we continued to perv on men, the lens on fizz's superduper camera was quite handy here. we returned to our smelly hostel, full of nutters to get ready for our BIG night out. we started off with miniature bottles of sherry which tasted like piss and acid then left the hostel and settled on a park bench with a bottle of rioja. classy. here we met some charming local chaps who took us to the bestest bars in town. to cut a long story short, issy got with a chav and i got with someone born in the 90's and we had to run away...except because i was utterly sloshed i insisted that i knew the way and led us down a dead-end street. the chav and the child followed and we had a fair bit of explaining to do...no way as smooth as i'd envisaged.
more to follow...
